


Set-Up

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When Garrison is assigned to carry out a solo mission, one that requires he play the part of a traitor, no one on the team is happy.  Matters don't improve when certain individuals try to take advantage of his absence to use his men for their own purposes.  Each man will have to draw on his own skills and inner strength, along with relying on each other, to make it through the challenges ahead.  Hopefully that will be enough.  Otherwise, Garrison could come back to an empty Mansion.  That is, if he makes it back himself.
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

"We are convinced this Stephen Hamlin is a German agent with contacts, informants, if you will, inside these halls. We need someone to ferret out those individuals and stop the flow of information to the enemy. Accordingly, Lieutenant Garrison, we are asking you to make contact with this Stephen Hamlin, or somehow tempt him to make contact with you. Convince him you have valuable information and are willing to provide him with said information.

"I will leave it up to you as to your possible motivation - misguided loyalties or more mercenary reasons. I'm told you can be quite inventive; I'm sure you will come up with something. Just make it believable; no sense being overly subtle about things. You have to get the point across, after all; there must be no doubt in his mind of your sincerity.

"Until you complete your assignment, you will basically be on your own. Once you leave your current operation, shall we say in two day's time, you will have no further communication with your team or anyone connected to them. 

"Perhaps we can get you some leave time to account for that and your presence here in London. Or even better, arrange for some detached duty here, where you can rummage through the offices and files and come up with some interesting tidbits to use as bait. Yes, I think that latter will work best. Colonel Melmann probably has just the thing sitting on his desk, several things probably; that would be quite appropriate, in fact, as this was partially his idea.

"And, understand, you WILL have to have actual legitimate information for Hamlin, not something made up; he is far too smart to be taken in by a fraud. So whatever you use, make it something real, something valuable enough to tempt him past the point of caution. I imagine his eyes-and-ears will let him know when something important goes missing, and he'll be taking note."

Lieutenant Craig Garrison listened, nodded, asked questions, made notes in the leather-bound journal he'd taken from his briefcase, and ended up agreeing to take on the assignment. He had only one request, that his team be kept together and intact awaiting his return. 

"If they have to be sent out, Ainsley's team, perhaps Reynolds or Davis - they would be a good fit, until I get back."

Major Pine nodded impatiently. "Yes, well, I doubt we can let them sit around idly while you are off doing this job. I'm sure one of the other Team Leaders, perhaps one of those you named, will be glad of their services. I've heard about your men, though, Lieutenant. I expect you to give them strict instructions as to their conduct while you are away. I want no trouble from them, and I'm sure you feel quite the same."


	2. "I Have The Feeling I'm Being Set Up"

When Major Pine told Garrison about the mission, ordered him to steal valuable information, to make contact with a suspected German operative, Garrison felt that ever-so-telling shiver run up and down his spine; he considered it his 'early warning signal'. 

{"I have the feeling I'm being set up here."}. 

He figured the chances of his being played for a fool, a patsy, were substantial. Hell, he'd worked cons with the same bent, after all; he knew the drill. 

Upon leaving Pine's office, Garrison did what had become SOP with Special Forces when orders seemed 'off' somehow, (especially after those two lovely contract agents failed to do so, creating an embarrassing and potentially dangerous situation for his team) - he checked with someone higher in the food chain, just to be sure he wasn't being strung along, or more likely, hung out to dry. Squaring his shoulders, he headed to Colonel Melmann's office; after all, that had been the name mentioned, the desk it was suggested he take those papers from. 

A short conversation later, he was on his way back to the car, briefcase in hand.

"You were right, Pine. He's the suspicious sort. Came running to check up on those orders," Colonel Melmann laughed into the phone. 

"And you told him?" Pine asked, toying with the letter opener on his desk.

"What do you think? I fed him the whole spiel, rainbows and ponies and magic beans and all the rest. He bought it, no question. Yes, this will work just fine; I will be sure to leave a few interesting items where he can get his hands on them - things important enough their going missing will create an uproar, and have the Powers That Be screaming for his head. Set it in motion, now. Make it happen, Major Pine." 

Melmann sat back, well satisfied. It had become troublesome, the snooping around some interfering busybodies had undertaken. While he didn't think anyone suspected HIM, still it wouldn't do for the higher-ups to figure out he, Major Pine and Lieutenant Caroughters were all three cooperating with the Axis powers. 

They had too much invested to pull up stakes; what they'd needed was a nice decoy, a fall-guy. Garrison had undertaken a few other little odd jobs for HQ, enough he wouldn't wonder too much at being tapped for this one as well. And, on the other side of things, Garrison had ruffled enough feathers that he was a prime choice, wouldn't have many defenders, surely, when it all blew up in his face. 

{"After all, a portion of the traffic on the office grapevine has already suggested he's bent. This will make those individuals quite happy, I imagine."}

Soon, those keeping tabs on possible leaks, possible sabotage, would have someone new in their sights. And Stephen Hamlin, an MI5 operative pretending to be a German agent in order to sniff out any potential traitors on the Allied side, he would jump at the chance to take down this newest 'traitor', Lieutenant Craig Garrison. 

With both Major Pine and Melmann denying any knowledge whatsoever of any 'special assignment', certainly denying ordering Garrison to steal vital information and turn it over to a supposed German agent, there would be no doubt of the man's guilt and justice would most likely be swift.

Soon the work could continue, the current danger abated. Perhaps by the time Garrison had either been shot or put behind bars the war would be over, with Germany the clear winner, and Melmann and his confederates in line to receive their promised reward. Even if not, if things dragged out, Garrison's predicament would provide enough distraction to give them some free space in which to continue their operation.

Garrison didn't hesitate, didn't pause, not til he was in the car and a couple of blocks away. Then, he pulled the small tape from that hidden recorder built into the very structure of his briefcase, the tape holding both his conversation with Major Pine and Colonel Melmann, and made his way to where he could place it into safe hands, friendly hands. Along with his suspicions, of course. 

Kevin Richards might be somewhat of a stuffed shirt at times, but he was a good man to have in your corner. That could prove very helpful should this actually be a set-up.

{"Better safe than sorry. Meghada, I never dreamed this briefcase you gave me would get this much of a workout!"}


	3. "One Can Always Hope"

They tried to argue him out of it, but it was obvious he had no intention of listening to them.

"It's a damned set-up! You gotta see that, Warden!" Casino protested, the others joining in.

Yes, he did; well, could see that there was a distinct possibility of it being that, and Richards had agreed. But there wasn't anything else for him to do, not that he could see, not under the circumstances. If this really was legitimate and he didn't find the real traitors, the outcome could be disasterous, maybe with results no one could even comprehend. And if it was a set-up, it was an ideal opportunity to discover the extent of the infiltration of the enemy into HQ. 

The argument went on til everyone was hoarse and totally frustrated. They all sought out places of their own, to regain their composure, to come up with, maybe, more effective arguments.

Eventually, the pickpocket searched out their Italian conman who'd sought out the relative calm of his leather chair and pipe in the library.

"Can't you talk 'im out of it, Actor," Goniff asked, almost pleading. "It's a trap, you know that, and 'e's gonna find 'imself be'ind bars, if not worse, once it gets sprung! Likely end up in front of a firing squad as a ruddy traitor, more than like! We can't let that 'appen!"

Actor sighed. Yes, he agreed that was a very possible outcome. But their lieutenant was stubborn, to say the least. And the young man was determined this was the only way forward, and the conman knew there was nothing he could say that would dissuade him from plowing ahead. Heaven knows, they'd had enough experience with Garrison to know THAT!

"Yes, I know, Goniff. But, when you think about it, isn't that true of any of us? Not Leavenworth, perhaps, but in front of a firing squad, or dead in some other manner. We face that on every mission."

Goniff glowered in Actor's direction, his frustration making his entire body tense. In his opinion, the conman just didn't UNDERSTAND!

"I KNOW that, Actor! Ain't stupid, you know! Never figured to come through all this alive, not really. I mean, it's nice to talk about after the war, w'at we'd do, all the plans, but I figure the odds aren't much in my favor. But 'im? That's different, or at least, it should be!"

Actor blinked, wondering how to phrase what he had to say. He knew better than to ask whether Goniff was concerned about what would happen to them if Garrison DID come to a bad end. Oh, it was on everyone's mind, but that wasn't primary, especially not with their pickpocket, it would seem. Goniff and Garrison had a different relationship, which Actor admitted he still found quite puzzling, and that didn't help in how he would need to deal with this confrontation.

Actor had come to realize he had to be a little careful with Goniff; while they all had their trigger points, somehow Goniff had more than the rest of them, and some of them had Craig Garrison's name printed on them in big bold letters. 

And Goniff, no matter how hapless he could let himself appear at times, had far more to him than Actor could ever have believed in the beginning. There was, if nothing else, that palm knife that lay inside his tunic, that he sometimes touched almost as lovingly as Chief did his blade. Actor had once been threatened with a 'gutting' by the pickpocket, and he had no doubts Goniff had meant every word. {"That too had involved Craig, of course."}

"Goniff," he tried again, "he is a soldier. It is what he was trained to be, what he has made his profession. I much doubt he expects any guarantees that he is to survive the war either, if you sat down and discussed it with him. This war, or perhaps the next, or the next." He sighed once again, {"and I have no doubt there will be a next and a next. It seems there always is."}

Goniff was pacing now, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "Sure, that's w'at 'e was trained for, but that's not ALL 'e could be, Actor. Craig, 'e could be most anything 'e took a mind to be! Probably WOULD 'ave been something else if not for those ruddy parents of 'is! 'As everything 'e needs to be anything 'e wants! More like you in that way, you know. If 'e gets through all this, 'e could do like w'at you were talking about for me that time, could 'ave a different life. 'E could stop being a soldier, could become something else, something not putting 'im in the way of the bullets all the time! It's gonna take you convincing 'im of that, later, if I'm not there, either cause of being killed or maybe something else."

There was a desperation in those hazy blue eyes.

Actor frowned now, picking up on nuances he'd perhaps overlooked before. "You've considered you not surviving, but him doing so? You've thought about him going on, without you, perhaps making a life outside the military?" 

That was rather backward to how most people would have looked at things, Actor thought; most people put themselves in the center of the picture, rarely focusing on a picture where they were absent. He wanted to ask questions, questions perhaps that he'd never have dared to ask before, but a look, a pained grimace, from the slender blond stopped him.

"W'at? You thinking I'm believing this is forever, 'im and me? Not that I don't want that, acourse, I do. But even if we both come through this, there's most likely going to be a time w'en 'e needs to be free, go on 'is own way. So 'e can be w'atever 'e decides 'e wants to be. That aint likely to 'appen with me around.

"Me? I'm never going to be more, or at least better, than w'at I am, not that I'd be wanting to try and figure out just w'at that is to begin with. Never 'ave been able to figure all that out, anyway, least not in a long, long time! Been too ruddy many different people to really get a grip on that, though this is the most 'me' I ever been. But that's not the point, Actor. If there's one of us to survive this ruddy war, it needs to be 'im! Can't you see that??!"

That he was disclosing more than he ever intended to his teammate, especially with it being Actor {"too many different people??"} didn't even occur to him; this was just too important!

"Ain't saying 'e won't be sorry, maybe, for awhile, if I don't make it through, but 'e'll manage. Especially if YOU'RE there to give 'im a 'and in sorting it all out, Actor. Make 'im understand it wasn't 'im failing that caused me not to make it through. 'Elp the others, too, if they get through on the other side, especially Chiefy; the Clan will 'elp with that. 'Gaida promised that, you know. 

"You got the skills, Actor; you're ruddy annoying at times, no arguments there, but I 'ave to give you that. That's why YOU need to come out of this alive too! I don't make it, I'll be a memory soon enough; 'opefully not a bad one, not one 'e 'as too many regrets over. 'Elp 'im get a chance at a better life, alright? 'e DESERVES that life, Actor! And that brings us right back around to the first point again - 'im going off to do something stupid, like walking into this ruddy trap!!

Actor was stunned, unsure what to say. Fortunately, he didn't have to say much.

"Actor, go find somewhere else to be, will you?" came a quiet voice from the doorway, and both team members jerked their heads in that direction. They had been so engrossed in their discussion they hadn't heard Garrison come down the hall earlier, following close on Goniff's footsteps. 

"And keep the others occupied?" Garrison added, as Actor moved past him.

Actor looked from one to the other of the men, then nodded. 

"Yes, I will do that, Craig," and left the library, closing the door gently behind him. The thought had flashed through his mind, to remind them they were at the Mansion, and that while he would TRY to make sure they were uninterrupted, it was impossible to guarantee that. By the time he reached the Common Room, he was glad he hadn't. They both knew quite well where they were, and had shown they were quite capable of dealing with that. They would manage to say what needed to be said, deal with the situation, without putting themselves at unnecessary risk.

"Hey, where'd Goniff take off to? Thought he was gonna go talk to you?" Casino asked as he looked up, absently thumbing through a deck of cards.

"He did. Now he is speaking with the Lieutenant," Actor replied.

"Think it'll do any good?" Chief asked, the look on his face showing he didn't have very high hopes.

"Most probably not, but one can always hope." 

Well, he doubted it would help dissuade Garrison from undertaking this mission, though perhaps it would do some good in other ways.

"You're right, Goniff, at least about part of that," Garrison offered quietly, watching the flush hit those pale cheeks at the knowledge his words had been overheard.

"Figured I was, or I wouldn't 'ave said it," Goniff said, giving a rueful attempt at a smile, looking up through sandy eyelashes.

"PART of it, I said, not all," Garrison said, as he sat down in one of the big chairs, motioning Goniff to take the one opposite.

"You're right, I DON'T know that I would have entered the military, not as early as I did, anyway, if it wasn't for my father. Probably not. Later, though, remember - I wouldn't have been given any choice, not once the war started; it would have been my duty to serve, and I would have. I just wouldn't have been in the same position, a position that gave me the chance to have all of you as my team.

"And, you're right about something else, too; there's nothing to say I have to stay in the military after this war is over. I don't know how I feel about that, yet, one way or the other. It's been a learning experience, a very enlightening one, all around. The people I've met - not just you and the guys, not just Meghada and her family - HQ weighs pretty heavily in there too.

"And, yes, there are other things I could do; with additional learning, education, there would be even more things available. But, understand this - whatever I decide to do, it's not going to be something that precludes you being right there with me. I don't WANT to be doing anything that keeps you from being with me."

"Craig . . ." Goniff started to protest.

"No, listen to me. Who knows whether we'll both make it through? But, I can promise not to do anything stupid, at least, not on purpose." 

Seeing the skeptical look he was being given, he amended that somewhat, giving a wry smile of his own.

"Okay, at least, unless it's really, really necessary, okay? I'm going to do my damnedest to see we ALL stay alive - all have a chance for a future. I want your promise on that too, that you'll do the same. 

The hurt, rather offended look on Goniff's face made Garrison realize that hadn't been taken the way he'd meant it. He hurried to clarify things.

"Oh, I know you'll do everything you can to keep me, the guys alive, but I want your promise you're going to count yourself in on that too. Because, my life would NOT be simpler, easier without you, not in any way that really counts. 

"I will have no regrets about you, Goniff - about US - except if I ever lose you, and I would regret THAT every moment of every day for the rest of my life. And I would spend that time waiting, for that Turn of the Wheel Meghada talks about, for the chance to find you again. Because, without you, I'm alone, no matter how many other people are around; without you, I'll always be alone. Now, you wouldn't want that, would you?" that last with a slightly teasing note to his voice.

And yes, they remembered they were at the Mansion, remembered the limitations that brought. Somehow, though, those limitations still allowed for a meeting of the minds, eyes settling and melting together, a warm hand on the shoulder substituting for anything more intimate.

After an extended period of quiet while they both got their thoughts organized, Goniff sighed heavily. "Alright, so you're for sure going to do this. W'at do we do to make sure you come through it in one piece? And w'at do we do if HQ decides to make a go at us in the meantime? It's going to be too tempting for them to pass up, you know. Aint gonna just let us sit 'ere and wait for you to come back, even if they're on the up and up. Only question is, just w'at they're going to try - just sending us out on jobs with someone else, or maybe something more? And w'at do we do if it turns right nasty?"

"Let's go talk to the others, do a little brainstorming," Garrison suggested, and the two men made their way to the Common Room and the rest of the team.

And it turned out they were right to consider both, well, all sides of the puzzle that had been laid in front of them. Because, yes, it was a trap awaiting Garrison. And, yes, there were those at HQ who thought this was an ideal opportunity to take advantage of Garrison's absence. Not all in the same way, but other than that one job with Ainsley's team, nothing Garrison would have been in favor of, if he had been aware.


	4. "Maybe We Should Adopt Him"

Garrison left on Saturday. Their new temporary Team Leader arrived at the Mansion early the following week, escorted up to them by a seemingly shell-shocked Sergeant Major Gil Rawlins. Well, the look on Rawlins' face was understandable, certainly, to their way of thinking.

"Yer kidding us, right? What are you, sixteen? Hell, I've got socks older than you, kid!"

Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews was the youngest-looking officer they'd ever come across. Looked like he belonged on the top of a tin box of candy, ice skating across a frozen pond alongside a rosy-cheeked girl with a fur muff, rather than being in a military officer's uniform. In fact, Actor thought he looked a little like a slender if rather tall cherub, short blond curls close against his skull, blue eyes with lovely long lashes, rosebud lips. 

Of course, he'd come at them with the attitude of all-business, military strictness when he first walked in the door, but that had dissipated almost immediately once he came into contact with the four cons. It was hard playing hard-ball with guys who insisted on treating you like their favorite kid brother. 

Parker Andrews assured them that he really was a commissioned officer, and that he wasn't sixteen. 

"And it sounds like YOU need an update to your wardrobe, Casino, at least in the sock department. Actually, I'm nineteen. Yes, I know that's young. Yes, I know I look even younger. I can't HELP that, either part."

"Kid's so wet behind the ears, he squeaks! He's not gonna survive out there for long," Casino growled.

"Perhaps so, Casino, but what are we to do about it? Adopt him?" Actor asked.

There was quiet as they all considered the delimma of young Parker Andrews, for some bizarre reason dropped into their midst as a replacement for Garrison.

Finally Chief sighed. "Not a bad idea, you know. Adopting him, just for however long they leave him with us. Between all of us, we could teach him a heck of a lot. Maybe enough to give him a decent chance."

Goniff snorted. "Well, SOMEONE'S got to. I'm not saying 'e aint got the assets, but 'e aint using em near like 'e could." 

The others looked at him, puzzled. 

"See, being that young, blond 'air, those big blue eyes - 'e should be playing it all innocent-like, not trying to act all stern and tough. Even if 'e IS, tough, I mean, better not to show it up front, not when something else plays better. Course, could be someone's braced 'im, w'ere it feels safer to try for the tough-guy routine. Trouble is, no one's gonna believe it, not with 'im, not yet, not in time to make the trouble go away. Could push some to make a try w'en they might not, even, just to teach 'im 'e's NOT so tough."

Yes, well, if anyone would have known all that, it was probably Goniff. They'd leave it to their pickpocket to try and explain, though. None of them were all that adept at the 'innocent' routine.

Still, the young lieutenant touched a chord in each of them, and they each responded, each in their own way. When later it was described as them 'adopting' him, in truth that was not so far off the mark.

It had all slid into place far easier than anyone would have imagined. Certainly easier than the one thinking up this bit of malice would have considered. Indeed, that one, Lieutenant Morrison, FIRST Lieutenant Morrison, would be quite disappointed at how it was turning out. He'd intended to teach the young interloper his proper place in the scheme of things, via Garrison's thugs, not get him a new set of mentors.

Before any time had passed, there was Actor, explaining the different types of cons, and the variations, but warning that you had to be able to adapt the con to the situation as it changed. 

"Because while you must have a plan upfront, a con, like any other plan, once the wheels are moving, that plan needs to be flexible. Sometimes there need be no alterations, but often there are circumstances, events of which you were unaware earlier. Then, you must be prepared to make changes as needed."

When Parker had questioned whether all of that - the 'cons', anyway - was something a military officer should be knowing, much less doing, in the first place, Actor reassured him with a knowing smile.

"Lieutenant Garrison is quite adept at many of these, you know. It is part of what makes him such a successful field officer, allows him to lead us in situations you would think we had no chance of success, of coming out alive."

Chief watched the young man move, watched the expression on his face as he slowly told some stories of past encounters, past experiences. Chief had nodded, then countered with some stories of his own, though nothing too dire, certainly not all there was to tell. The others noted with some amusement that this was the most they'd ever heard Chief talk, at least to an outsider, maybe even to them.

"You ever think about learnin to use a knife?" Seeing that appalled look, he'd acknowledged, "don't mean you HAVE to use one, just, the knowing, the having? That can be enough, sometimes. Sometimes, helps you sleep better too," he said, stroking the blade strapped to his arm. "The Lieutenant, he's real good with a knife; likely to be as good as me someday, even better, he keeps working at it. Maybe you want to take some lessons? I'd be willing." 

And the dark knowledge in those equally dark eyes shook young Parker, made him wonder, but he decided not to ask. At least not yet. But he DID decide maybe he should let Chief teach him about knives. If this Lieutenant Garrison that they seemed to hold in such regard felt it was an acceptable area of endeavor for an officer, surely he'd be remiss in passing up the opportunity of learning from an expert.

Casino had been roughly encouraging in the more physical arts. 

"Hell, kid, no one's saying you gotta take up bar room brawling. You're not really built for that, anyhow, any more than Sticky-Fingers over there. At least you need ta do like him, learn how to duck and weave out of the way some, how to spot the signs of trouble coming enough to be outta the line of fire when the bottles and furniture starts flying. But you STILL gotta know how to use yer fists as much as you can. There's times yer gonna NEED that. Even the Warden knows how to fight - regular and street-style - and you ARE built a lot like him; damned wicked punch that man can throw, too! If it's good enough for him, it should be damned well good enough for you!"

And so, Parker Andrews found himself first sparring, then learning what would probably be called 'street fighting'. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked at the ease with which he mastered the skill, or the ready acceptance and patience from the men at his first hesitant efforts. The first time he ended up staring down at a grinning Casino, the safecracker sprawled on the ground with the other guys standing around applauding, he felt he'd turned a corner, found himself face to face with a someone he'd never imagined he could be. Oddly enough, he thought he just might get to like that 'someone', quite a lot.

Sergeant Major felt the young Lieutenant could use a good grounding in map reading, report writing - especially the occasional necessity for 'creative writing' as mastered by Lieutenant Garrison. 

"Now, that's something they don't think to teach you in officers' school, I imagine, at least at this level. But I expect there's not many who realize just 'ow much of the report writing and map work and such is involved, things you shouldn't be depending on others for.

"The Lieutenant, now, 'e 'as all that down pat. Every time they come back from a mission, 'e's right at work on those maps, the notes, adding any little details that came up, anything that might 'elp next time out. Saved them any number of times, I'd imagine, and not just them. The other Team Leaders, they come to 'im too, seeing w'at they can learn from 'is work, about the lay of the land and such, afore they 'ead out across the way. Don't do to depend on that rubbish up at HQ; some of that is so old, w'ole countries 'ave changed since they were drawn up! 

"And, no offence intended, Lieutenant, but sometimes those sitting behind the desk up at HQ don't need to know all the particulars, especially the ones they wouldn't rightly understand. No sense getting their knickers all in a twist."

And from Goniff? Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews learned an amazing lot from the wiry second story man, their resident pickpocket. The climbing was part of it, certainly the sticky fingers part, enough he could pick a pocket. "Though you just don't 'ave the touch to make a career of it," Goniff had told him regretfully. 

Parker found that funny as hell, thinking of what his mother, his father would say to him being told he just didn't have what it took to become a professional pickpocket. 

But that wasn't all he learned from Goniff. He learned how being slender and approaching 'pretty' could be both a weapon and a liability. 

He learned what 'masks' were, though sensing the discomfort Goniff was feeling at the explanations involved there. 

Actually, considering the effort it took for Goniff to talk freely about all of that, quite different from the aimless chattering the pickpocket was more known for, he was more than a little flattered that the man thought him worth the trouble.

"I guess I don't understand. You say it's valuable, but you say it's dangerous, too. Also it seems like it hurts, even to talk about," he ventured.

Goniff nodded thoughtfully. "Guess that's about right. It's valuable, learning 'ow to be someone else. Any number of times, that can pull you out of a right mess. Someone older, someone younger, someone different - though you don't need to worry about looking younger; don't see 'ow that's even possible, not yet. Get a few more years on you, that's a different story. Someone from a different class, different background, a different country, even. All that can 'elp, lots. 

"The 'urting? Well, that's partly because there's even a need in the first place. 'Ave to say, it would be nicer not to be in the mess to begin with, but that's not always your say, you know? Sometimes, it just 'appens and there you are, finding ways to keep your miserable self fed and outta the cold and wet, figuring out 'ow to keep breathing. Some of those ways, you'd avoid if you could, but you can't always." 

Goniff seemed to put on ten years, suddenly, with that explanation; there was just such a soul-deep tiredness there. Parker Andrews was intensely grateful for whatever had prompted the man to share to this extent, considering how painful it obviously was. He wasn't going to waste whatever was being offered, he knew that, reaching deep to absorb all that was being offered at such a cost.

"And the dangerous part? One thing, it's easy to lose who you really are, if you're not careful. Gotta keep real good track of that - who you are, who you're supposed to be, at any time. Just like being an actor on the stage - can't go forgettin you're supposed to be playing King Lear and go off spouting lines from 'amlet. You're supposed to be an Irishman, or an Italian, or w'atever, can't go dropping your aitches or forgetting to use the right accent. Keep your mind focused.

"But, just as important - you can't get so caught up in the pretending that you forget who you are, inside - underneath all that, I mean. It's 'ard finding 'you' again, if you let that 'appen. Believe me, I know. Let it go on long enough, it could be ruddy well impossible. Sometimes you get lucky, you find someone who 'elps pull you back, but you might not, either. So don't go letting that 'appen, alright? It's a real bad feeling, getting lost like that."

The Englishman shivered, and swallowed heavily, then brought himself back to the task at hand, though his smile was more than a little forced.

"So, it's a good thing to know, 'ow to do all that, so listen up w'ile I tell you 'ow it's done. Will show you the physical parts of it too, the ways you can change the way you look, 'ow people see you, though Actor can 'elp with that more than a little. Includes 'ow you walk, stand, move, lots more, not just a change of clothes or a little makeup. 

"Now, the Lieutenant, 'e can do this to a right treat; never figured 'im for the talent, not at first, but 'e's got it, right enough. It's worth learning, Parker."

Well, yes, it did sound that way. 

Funny, Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews was learning a lot, and one of the things he just couldn't help learning? Just what these decidedly talented, more than a little unconventional men, thought of their Lieutenant Garrison. 

{"Someday, I'd like to have a team of men just like them. The problem would be making myself someone worthy of working with them, leading them. I do want to meet their Lieutenant Garrison. Seems he'd have to be ten feet tall and carry a magic sword, to hear them tell it."}

Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews got back from HQ, sat down at the Common Room table and opened his briefcase, pulled out the information to give them the full briefing on their upcoming mission.

There was quiet when he finished, the guys exchanging knowing looks. Then Casino snorted and delivered the verdict.

"Shit, kid! Who did you piss off?? You foolin around with some high muckety-muck's daughter, his baby sister, maybe? Surely not his old lady! You and me, we gotta have a long talk, looks to me like!" getting some catcalls from the other guys.

Well, yes, it was one doozy of a mission, and Parker listened with growing amazement as the four men settled down to tear the mission apart, and then put it back together again in quite a different form. 

When he cautiously protested, "but that's not how the HQ Handler is telling us to go about it," he'd gotten another snort from Casino, along with the others. Actor proceeded to explain the reality of things.

"No, it is not, Parker; however, THIS way we have a decent chance of accomplishing our goal and making it back alive. HQ has a somewhat biased point of view, preferring what is termed a 'text book approach', and a decided lack of understanding of what it is truly like once your boots hit the ground. Oh, they claim they know quite well, and there are some of the Handlers who DO know, to some extent, anyway, especially the ones who also work in the field should it become necessary. However, Major Johns is not one of those. He is quite determined that things be done his way, yes; unfortunately . . ." Actor paused, trying to think of just how to phrase this.

Growing impatient with Actor trying to be polite about it, Goniff chimed in.

"Parker, what Actor is trying to say? Major Johns don't know 'is ruddy arse from a mug of beer! And probably couldn't find either even with using both 'ands! Can't go letting 'im call the shots, gonna get yourself killed that way, and us right along with you. Thing is, 'e's right touchy. You gotta pretend to go along til you're out and away. And you gotta think things through, right up front, figure out w'at you need that you can't count on 'im and 'is lot to send you off with. Find a way to get your 'ands on that without 'im ever knowing - least not in time to screw things up."

Actor gave Goniff a severe frown, but then acknowledged with a shrug and a sigh, "an inelegant way of describing the situation, perhaps, but, at its essence, quite accurate, unfortunately."

So while the plan was quite different from what Major Johns had offered, the final outcome was what had been intended, and they all made it back alive and in one piece. They'd coached him on the debriefing process on the way back. 

"Ruddy HQ don't need to know everything. Just get their shorts in a twist, most likely, and start making rude noises. So, you do like the Lieutenant would do. Take the beginning - that's the mission. Take the end - us getting the results they wanted. Then fill in the middle with w'at won't piss them off or give them any bright ideas for some other ruddy nonsense next time around."

Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews listened to their suggestions, memorized all the details of what that middle part should look like, and breezed through his debriefing like a champ. 

{"Yes, I really do need to meet their Lieutenant Garrison, perhaps see if he can spend some time explaining things to me. If I'm to make this my life's work, and I rather think I will, I obviously need better teachers than I had before I got here!"}

It was with more than a little regret that Parker Andrews went his way, this time to spend some quality time with the man responsible for his existence, though that wasn't something commonly known, here or elsewhere. And did he have quite a story to tell once he got there! His mother always said the man loved a good rousing story!

Actor and the team headed back to the Mansion, there to find that, no, Sergeant Major Rawlins had no news about their Lieutenant and the status of his mission. So, they rested, trained, and waited for whatever would come next, hoping like hell Garrison would be back before they were sent out again.


	5. "That 'Ruddy Rudman' Is Trying To Get Us All Killed!"

Alas, that was not to be. Colonel Truman had plans for them, plans that would only work if Garrison still away, was not in command of the team. 

While they weren't aware of the particulars, not right at the beginning, it could honestly be said that none of them had a good feeling - about the mission or about the man who was to lead them - Major Rudman.

Well, they did have excellent instincts, each of them. For while they were waiting, there was a quiet meeting in London HQ, followed up by a phone call just as Rudman was getting ready to meet with the team.

"And, Rudman? It is important that they do as much damage as possible along the way. They seem to have a real knack for that, I'm told. It is NOT so important that they come back, might even be preferable if they don't. Hate for them to start talking to Garrison about this, you see; he seems to have a mistaken idea of their importance in the scheme of things. You will not be held accountable for any losses, not on a mission of this magnitude. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Sir. Most definitely." 

Colonel Truman hung up the phone, smiled with satisfaction. Yes, that file had been most helpful; after all, that mission HAD been a success, at least up until the premature deaths of the two officers who had put it into place, and that had happened AFTER the mission, not during. Mushrooms, of all things. And at the dinner where they were celebrating their success, too. 

Yes, most unfortunate; they really had come up with an inspired idea, as evidenced by Garrison's current success with his so-called 'Gorillas'. Unfortunately, Garrison had taken it in a direction not quite in line with the original intent. 

Those convict units were supposed to be used as disposable assets, on missions where you needed skills not usually learned in the military or in normal civilian life - missions where you'd prefer not to risk more valuable but differently-trained soldiers. Somehow, Lieutenant Garrison had either lost sight of that, or had never really understood the concept in the first place.

Still, the underlying notion was quite sound, and with Lieutenant Garrison otherwise occupied, it was the ideal opportunity to see if it had as much merit as previously thought. After all, the prisons were full of expendable men, and the war full of missions that needed doing without counting the human cost. And these men, Garrison's 'Gorillas', were available, and - well, only a fool would have passed up the opportunity.

"Got the right name, sure enough. That 'ruddy Rudman' is trying to get us all killed," Goniff gasped, lungs heaving with trying to regain his breath after that mad run for safety after the 'little job' the officer had set them to doing. That Rudman had been lax in laying down that covering fire he was supposed to have provided, that hadn't impressed anyone favorably.

Laying on his back, looking over at the others, he added, "remember that story 'Gaida told us, w'at led to us being given Clan shares and all? That other group the ruddy officers thought all so 'expendable' they didn't even WANT them to make it back, long as they got the job done before they got dead? Think this Rudman and that Colonel 'ave that same idea, maybe. You'd a thought them two officers from before ending up on the wrong side of a plate of bad mushrooms after it was over might 'ave convinced them it was a bad notion. That someone out there just might get a little pissy about the whole notion?"

"Well, you know what Meghada says. Sometimes 'subtle' just don't do the trick; some folks just don't understand 'subtle'," Chief offered laconically.

"Normally I would not call a plate of poisonous mushrooms, even in wine sauce, particularly subtle, Chief, but in this case it appears both you and Meghada are correct. Someone obviously did not get the intended message, not if THESE two are going to try the same tricks with us," Actor admitted. "Meghada said her cousin had been quite vocal in expressing her sentiments regarding that mission and all that occurred. Maeve probably thought it was self-evident, that she didn't NEED to leave a detailed note explaining the correlation between the deaths of the men sent on that mission, the mushrooms, and the two officers who ingested those mushrooms. Perhaps she should have, perhaps not signed, but at least a very clear message of cause and effect."

"Ya got that right! So, we just gonna let em get away with it??!" Casino raged, though in a low voice. None of the four were in great shape, each having picked up injuries of some nature, though none life-threatening or debilitating, at least not yet. Still, it was obvious, a few more days with Major Rudman in charge and that would change, and only for the worse. 

"No, we are not, Casino. We talked about this, remember. And we have orders from Craig; if it gets to the tipping point, we take action. Of course, it will be difficult to justify when we get back. Whether we are at that point or not, I am not yet sure."

Chief spoke up.

"Well, I am. Followed along while ago, heard him with that resistance guy, Lars. Lars kept telling Rudman it would be suicide, what he's looking at. Rudman just gave this funny little smile, like he knows something the other guy don't. Said "I'm sure they can get the job done, or at least do some damage; they may not all make it back, but the job will get done. And if nothing else, it will tie up some of the enemy resources for at least a while. Well worth the effort." Lars kept arguing at him, but looks like Rudman's gonna send us out against that German convoy once we get that close. They're still a few days away, though, so he's figuring on taking out a few other spots on the way."

The other three gaped at him in sheer disbelief. 

"The convoy? There must be two hundred or more heavily-armed soldiers in that convoy!" Actor exclaimed. 

"So, what do we do now?" Casino demanded.

Actor thought. "Why, Casino, we do as we are ordered. We head out in the proper direction to engage that convoy."

Protests were still low, but fervent. Actor shook his head, reassuring them, though with a grim smile.

"Ah, you were not listening properly. We head out and see what develops. I believe we will take a look at those 'other spots' he wishes us to deal with, see what will be the best way to handle things, to disappear. One by one, perhaps, or maybe at least starting that way; enough for him be misled. I think it quite possible that, by the time we would have reached that convoy, there will be no one besides Major Rudman to handle that engagement. We will simply disappear, at least for now. Preferably OUR way, not HIS."

Goniff snorted, "like that's going to 'appen, 'im going up against that convoy. Aint like with the lieutenant; now 'e'd most like take it on, all on 'is lonesome."

"Well, Rudman aint the Warden, that's for damned sure! Notice we're all bunged up; Rudman don't even have a scratch, he's kept so far back from the action!" Chief pointed out.

Well, that was true enough; Rudman was one of those officer who preferred to 'lead' from behind, unlike Garrison, who was always in the thick of things.

"And that will work to our advantage. He likes to stay well away from any danger; that means he will be unable to personally investigate whatever scenes we set up if we do it properly."

"So, this is where we are, generally speaking," Actor explained, brushing aside the dry leaves and using a small twig in the bare ground below. "The convoy should be about here, traveling this route. I imagine he will be leading us along in this direction. Who goes first will depend on the circumstances, of course. You will each watch for my signal. And when there is an opportunity, I need to have a word with Lars. Give me cover." 

And if there was some quiet joking about that twig-drawn sketch, so reminiscent of Garrison and his methods, those ended when they heard Rudman and Lars returning. A quick gesture and the leaves covered any sign of their activity.

And so it was. Rudman didn't mention the convoy, only the small radio outpost ahead. 

"That needs to be taken out, the whole thing destroyed, every last inch of it. They've been reporting on the resistance activities in the area; Lars and his group could use a break. They'd take them on themselves, there's only four guys there, but Lars is down to just three men himself, and the personnel at the outpost know them each by sight."

A fast word between Actor and Lars, when Rudman was distracted by some argument Casino was putting up, confirmed that yes, the radio outpost was there, was a danger, but there were more likely eight or ten men there, at least, not the four Rudman had mentioned. 

"And it would be better if the equipment were left intact, lines of communication in place, rather than destroyed as your leader is insisting. As I told him, we have the current code book and one of my men speaks fluent German. It could be most helpful if we could put out misleading information for awhile, at least until we receive word a new contingent of men is to arrive. Then, perhaps we will see."

Lars wanted to say more, but then Rudman turned and the two men parted quickly, neither thinking it would be a good idea for the officer to see them conversing. 

Actor thought that was interesting - at least twice the number of soldiers as Rudman had disclosed, perhaps more, and the resistance leader having a different goal than the utter destruction the officer had been insisting upon. 

Lars had already communicated a low private warning, soon after their meeting, a warning of "our mutual friend Kevin suggests you should not trust him entirely, the one who leads you, and I think I must agree." They had already gotten that idea, but it was interesting to hear that determination from an outside source. And just how Kevin Richards was involved in all of this, since Actor couldn't think of who else Lars could be speaking of, that was most puzzling.

{"Now whose goal do we wish to pursue, that is the question. Ah, well, perhaps it is not, not really. We will see what we can do to aid Lars. What can Rudman do that he is not already intending, after all?"}

Rudman was a happy camper, everything going just the way he wanted, though he took care not to show that to the men now facing him, angry looks on their faces. That would not be wise, obviously. 

Oh, losing the Indian in that crossfire would mean that convoy just might have to be taken out of the plan, but there were other targets between here and there, other ways these men might be of use, find some redemption in their manner of death, if not their lives as lived thus far.

He did query the men closely, though, just to be sure. That had gotten him some snarls, and a very crisp response from the tall Italian. 

Wiping the blood away from his hands, trying to blot what he could from his uniform, Actor advised Rudman, "yes, Major, I am quite sure! He is one of our own. Did you think I, we, would leave him behind without getting close enough to be quite certain? As you can see, I DID get that close," motioning to the red mess on his jacket. 

Yes, the men were visibly upset at losing one of their own, but really, they had to have known it would happen sometime, eventually. Their luck couldn't hold out forever. And, besides, Colonel Truman would be quite upset if their luck held out throughout the mission, at least enough for them to get back. 

Neither officer really wanted anyone spreading talk about how the team had been pushed, even misled about the dangers involved so that they would go up against targets they might otherwise have balked at. Such talk might make it more difficult to recruit their replacements, after all.

As it was, the three remaining seemed to accept his hurried explanation of "they must have just had a relief contingent arrive. Damned bad luck, having both groups there at the same time!"

Goniff snarled, "ruddy bad luck for Chief, anyways!" but hadn't seemed interesting in challenging him any farther than that.

Meanwhile, Chief followed along in the shadows, at least when he wasn't scouting ahead along the route Actor had indicated. That was after he exchanged a few words with Lars as he slipped away from that outpost, watched as the resistance leader got his own man firmly in place, those bodies pulled out to be disposed of somewhere out of view.

"Any idea what he's intending next?" he'd asked, and Lars thought carefully. 

"There are various targets he and I discussed, but two I think he would find most tempting. One, a manor house, occupied by a German officer. He took it over some months ago when the owners fled the approach of the invaders. It is rumored he is a conduit of information from Berlin to the various fighting units; it would be interesting to know what the contents of that safe in the library might contain, I have often thought. However, we have no one who can open safes, not like your friend.

"Also, there is a supply depot, small, but ideally situated to provide support to various different units. Arms, ammunition, radio equipment, food. We have made several small raids, doing some damage, but not enough to destroy it as we would prefer. That would be tempting, I believe, to your Major Rudman."

"Can tell you one thing. He aint MY Major Rudman." Stroking his knife carefully, Chief got a thoughtful look on his face. "Though I wouldn't mind a chance at MAKING him MY Major Rudman, at least in some ways."

Lars raised one brow, "yes, I can understand that." And he truly did.

Chief turned to leave, to follow the others, then turned back.

"When we're all clear -"

"Yes, when you are all clear, if you wish, return to us. Unless there is someplace else for you to go. You would be welcome, know that."

Goniff was next. 

Rudman frowned, "you're sure?" glancing back at the small manor house where he'd sent the remaining members of the team to riffle the safe of the German officer who'd commandeered the place to use as his headquarters. 

Yes, watching from the hillside, he'd seen the Englishman take a dive off the roof coping, but hadn't considered it might have been fatal. After all, the man was supposedly quite adept at climbing and such; you'd think he would be equally adept at taking a fall and walking away from it.

Actor's face was grim, Casino's turned into a scowl. The binoculars were thrust into Rudman's hands. 

"Take a look for yourself! There, in the courtyard! Damn fool Limey slipped at the edge, fell wrong. Broke his damned fool neck! Shit! Of all the ways . . .! Always told him I figured he was half monkey, half squirrel, ya know? To get himself killed in a fall, never expected that!" 

The sheer emotion in the safecracker's voice was almost enough to convince Rudman; the view through those binoculars was the final confirmation he needed. No one alive would have been that still, ended up in that position, neck twisted to one side.

"I thought you said the manor house was unoccupied, Major?" Actor asked, his voice taut. "Unfortunately, that was not what we found. There were actually quite a few inhabitants, all armed."

"Yes, well, that is unfortunate, that our information from the Resistance was so inaccurate. You DID get that safe opened, though, didn't you? The contents could be quite important," Rudman asked anxiously.

"Yeah, we got em. Hope like hell they're worth it," Casino said in a strangled voice, handing over a thick packet of papers, before he turned to walk away a few paces.

Rudman frowned after him, then turned to Actor with a puzzled look. Somehow that was more emotion than he would have expected from the safecracker.

Actor gave him a steady look. "They were friends, Major. And this is the second friend he, we, have lost in as many days. Did you think we would be unaffected?"

It was obvious Rudman still didn't understand; well, it had never really occurred to him that a friendship might have been formed between the convicts, something more than just being on the same team. 

{"Another reason Garrison's way just is not the best; we don't need these convicts to be friends, just be willing to work together for the brief time necessary til they fulfil their purpose."}

Chief slid through the silent manor house, sidestepping the bodies, til he was within close range of that last silent body.

"They're gone now. Time for us to get going too," he said quietly from the shadows.

"Ruddy 'ell! Bout time! Thought I was gonna break my neck for real, twisting it like that for so long!" Goniff said as he curled up, out, and into something less resembling a corpse and got to his feet. Rubbing his aching neck, he looked anxiously at Chief and asked, "Actor and Casino? They're alright?"

"Yeah, for now. Lars figures Rudman is headed for a supply depot next. That's the last thing before the convoy, most likely, so both of them need to get out while everything's going up in smoke."

"You figure Actor will know that?"

"Figure he will; he's been the Warden's second for long enough. We'll get different clothes, be there to help. Just be sure to stay out of Rudman's sight."

"And after? W'at then?"

"Lars says we can join up with them; we'd be welcome. Guess we'll see what Actor thinks about that. Come on, let's get moving."

Rudman lay on the ground, well out of sight of the activity below, watching the smoke billowing from the demolished supply depot. He watched carefully, seeing a few soldiers scurrying around, checking for survivors, trying to pull bodies out of the way, trying to put out the remaining fires. 

He waited, til it was clear neither the safecracker or the con man were coming out. Either they'd been killed in one of the explosions, or perhaps by one of the soldiers. Perhaps they'd been captured, but Rudman doubted that. It didn't seem any of the men in uniform would be all that eager to take live prisoners, not after all the damage that had been done. All in all, a good day's work.

{"Colonel Truman should be quite pleased. A most successful venture, certainly. Several substantial targets taken down, the contents of that safe in our hands. Yes, well worth repeating, I believe. Garrison really did a remarkable job training those men; perhaps he will be as successful with the next lot. I wonder how long it will take? Oh, well, perhaps he isn't the best man for the job, anyway, not past a certain point. Perhaps he can contribute to the training in the beginning, but then the men turned over to other, more detached leaders."}

He pulled himself into a crouched position, and moved backwards, checking his bearings, and started off to the exit point. 

Pity about the convoy, of course, though he'd never really had great hopes of that. That particular target had just been his back-up plan, should any of them survive past this point. And it was just as well; he doubted he could have gotten those two to the sticking point, would possibly even had trouble if they had all four survived. Yes, much better this way.


	6. "After All, The Prisons Are Full Of Their Sort"

Garrison was livid! There were more than a few other words that came to mind, but that would do for starters, at least until he had some privacy to explore some of the others. (He was pretty sure 'sick', 'devastated' would rank at the top of the list, once he allowed himself to really let it hit home, all that had been lost.) 

He had received his share of lumps in that misbegotten charade, had finally gathered the evidence against those who WERE acting as enemy agents from within HQ, had seen them taken into custody and then turned his mind to other matters. 

He'd headed to Kevin Richard's office to get caught up on everything that had happened in his absence, but had been waylaid by Alex Ainsley. Ainsley had filled him in, partly anyway, enough for Garrison to realize his men had been sent on not one, not two, but THREE separate missions during his absence.

Well, no, he hadn't expected HQ to just leave them sitting there idle while he was otherwise occupied, but he'd hoped, even suggested, that they work with one of the other teams, maybe Ainsley's lot, or Reynolds, or Micah Davis. Team Leaders who knew the guys, knew what they were capable of. Team Leaders Garrison could trust to do right by his men.

Seems that had been the way it started. The guys had been assigned to go out with Alex Ainsley, and the job got done, no casualties on either team. 

The second seemed more than a little off. A just-commissioned nineteen year old Second Lieutenant wasn't exactly who he'd have chosen to lead his unruly men, though from what he was being told by Ainsley, that had been surprisingly successful as well. 

But the third one? That was a different matter entirely, and Ainsley hadn't had any details, only pointed Garrison in the direction of Colonel Truman or Major Rudman.

"I know Rudman was in charge on the mission; I saw him earlier today, so they must be back. You'll probably find him down J wing."

Garrison went looking, found both men just leaving J wing, headed to lunch. His inquiry about his men was met with a quick sideway glance, enough he got that chill up his spine again.

It was Colonel Truman who now explained matters to him - there, in an open hallway, casually, as if the whole thing was of little real importance, not even enough to qualify for the privacy of a meeting room or office.

"Unfortunate, of course, Lieutenant. However, our reports do indicate they were able to do a great deal of damage to the German supply lines, as well as the other targets involved, before they were killed. Major Rudman was quite complimentary of their skills. He regrets their loss, certainly, as I am sure he would tell you, but fortunes of war, you know. Yes, in answer to your question, we are quite sure. Major Rudman confirmed each man's death." 

Colonel Truman had been most pleased with the results of that mission, and the satisfaction showed clearly in his eyes. To his mind, that 'damage' clearly outweighed any 'loss'. Not that he considered those men much of a loss to begin with, but some polite words were probably called for. 

Not that the lieutenant standing in front of him seemed to be in the mood for such politeness. Indeed, he seemed quite - well, angry, and with an inappropriate amount of anger. Even considering Garrison's obvious efforts and time involved in training the men, it seemed just, well, too much anger. 

{"Most unprofessional!"}

Garrison seemed incapable of speech, though by the fierce glare in his eyes, when he recovered that ability, neither men doubted they would hear some most unpleasant opinions. 

Major Rudman hurried to do what he could to placate the lieutenant, or at least, make him come to some realization that his attitude was quite out of line.

"Truly, Lieutenant Garrison, I understand your being upset. It must have taken a great deal of effort to form those particular men into a reliable team. You should take a great deal of satisfaction in how well they performed. However, I must say, you appear to be taking it personally, which seems rather, well, unprofessional. This is wartime, after all. Losses are inevitable. I am sure we can find suitable candidates for you to train as their replacements. After all, the prisons are full of their sort, aren't they?" 

Rudman seemed to be walking that thin line that separates proper courtesy between two officers in severe disagreement, and the slightly-contemptuous superiority of a 'truly detached professional' over an officer who had seemed to have misplaced that vital accessory. Any sincere regret for those 'losses' was patently absent; perhaps he was aware his acting ability just wasn't strong enough to carry that off - perhaps he was unable to convince himself it was really called for, that Garrison would even expect that. Certainly he had no concept that 'regret' was even a real possibility, from any standpoint, not for those men.

Garrison was flushed, his jaw clinched, his lips pale from the pressure at the news that his men, all four of them, had been lost on this misbegotten mission - a suicide mission, though no one had quite come out and used that term, at least not to him. Certainly not to the team, not if they'd gone along, instead of simply vanishing along the line somewhere like they'd planned if it got too hot.

No, it hadn't gone down well. And 'detached professionalism' was the last thing he was going for right now. He was having all he could do to keep from swinging on that smug face, and that was his compromise position, the one NOT involving the loaded revolver at his waist. 

{"Chief, caught in a cross-fire, gunned down. Actor and Casino, dead in an explosion. Goniff - dear god! - Goniff! killed in a fall, with a broken neck!"}

"Ahem, gentlemen. If you will pardon the interruption, I need Lieutenant Garrison to come with me. We have urgent matters to discuss. A possible mission, you see, quite important." 

Major Richards' voice was cool, exhibiting all that 'detached professionalism' Rudman had deemed so important, his demeanor all polite reserve.

"Major, we were just explaining to the lieutenant, about his team. Perhaps YOU might be able to convince him of the inadvisability of his current attitude. Most unprofessional, I must say," Colonel Truman sniffed, his mouth turned down severely.

"His team. Ah, yes, I will see to that, Colonel. Come along, Lieutenant Garrison, now. We have things we need to discuss."

Garrison turned stiffly and walked beside Major Richards, not daring to trust his voice til they reached the stairwell. Even then, his voice was almost unrecognizable, strained, as if he had no breath to articulate his words.

"What do we need to discuss, Major? Another solo mission for me? Maybe we are to discuss how soon I can recruit 'replacements' to be discarded just as easily?? Or perhaps we are to discuss how I am to tell Meghada, tell Lynn - what I am to say in the letters to Goniff's ladies, to Casino's family, back home? What I'm supposed to tell myself every time I look in the mirror??! How I'm supposed to meet those two in the halls without . . ."

"Actually, Lieutenant Garrison, I thought we might discuss whether you wish to accompany me to retrieve your men - all four of them - from the resistance unit they are spending their 'sabbatical' with. Hold on there, Garrison! Don't you dare pass out on me! I refuse to carry you up these stairs! Damn it, man, breathe!!"


	7. "I'm Finding Out That I'm Not Nearly As Civilized As I Once Thought"

As Major Kevin Richards explained it to Garrison, once they were safely ensconced in the major's office, filled whiskey glasses firmly in hand, baby-faced Second Lieutenant Parker Andrews was the linch-pin.

"Young, oh my stars, how very young, Garrison! Were we ever that young??! I, for one, cannot remember being so. The records say nineteen, just barely, but I have to admit I have my doubts; I would have put him at seventeen at the outside. Quite precocious, a prodigy apparently. He finished university long before most are even starting, then military training and his commissioning after that. 

"Seems he got a few noses out of joint showing up, breezing his way through the usual challenges and tests, and someone decided to take him down a notch or two. Well, probably several notches, since they arranged for him to be in charge of a rather dire mission across the way, with YOUR men accompanying him. Lad went through combat training, of course, or at least I don't see how that could have been avoided. But outside of that, I doubt he'd ever faced anything more severe than the flight over from Washington. 

"I imagine the goal was for your team to basically eat him alive, make him go running home to mother as soon as, well, IF, he made it back from the Continent, if it even got that far. I expect it was considered not likely to reach that point, that they would have him in rapid retreat long before then.

"Instead, I gather your men rather adopted him. I understand he's learned all sorts of disreputable habits, skills and language, or so I hear. Oh, did I mention his father is someone quite, QUITE important in the British government? That is something obviously unknown to the jolly planners of this little escapade, or they would never have ventured into this madness. Have different last names, you see, and they don't look anything alike. 

"The young man really is quite handsome, in fact; nothing bulldog-ish about him in the least, and he has blond hair, not red. Obviously takes after his mother. Seems his father was very much in favor of 'hands across the sea' and all that even in his younger days - well, his own mother was an American, too, of course. The boy's mother was a wealthy American socialite as well, one who went her own way without too much concern for the proprieties or anyone's opinions, never felt the need to marry. Young Andrews carries her name."

Richards sighed, as if he was being greatly put-upon, but there was more than a hint of amusement in his eyes, Garrison noted.

"One of the more disturbing aspects? He apparently has now copied your pickpocket's smirk, along with that wide-eyed air of hopeful innocence, all the while doing things that would hardly qualify to even the most lenient as 'innocent'. I am sure you can visualize the whole thing; you should certainly be able to, I would think. 

"Luckily for everyone concerned, his father seems to find it all quite amusing, even laughing uproariously when he finds his cigar cutter being juggled about in the boy's hands rather than in his own pocket, or a knife being thrown into the paneling under his nose, or the boy relating with a great deal of enthusiasm the various ways to open a safe, or hotwire a staff car, or run a con. 

"This war has the way of forming the most unusual associations, you know, Garrison. If my father had not died some years ago, just hearing about young Andrews, being who he is, mentoring under your pickpocket and the others would have taken him off with an apoplexy. 

"Yes, although they've each had a hand in furthering his education, Goniff seems to have taken him on as a personal challenge; there was just a certain affinity there."

There was a sudden twitch, perhaps of concern, perhaps something else, on Garrison's face, enough Richards noted it with some amusement. The major decided perhaps a little discreet reassurance was in order; after all, Garrison had already been through the wringer, as it were.

"As Goniff explained it to me, well, as best I could understand him, and I'll admit that is frequently a challenge, "never 'ad a little brother, well, cept maybe for Chiefy. Nice feeling, thinking you're teaching w'at maybe 'e'd be the better for learning, maybe w'at might keep 'im alive and out of 'arms way. Some of us learn the 'ard way, you know, Major; often not given much of a choice. Can't 'elp that, but I like knowing maybe young Parker don't 'ave to learn it all that way. Come to think on it, aint even like being a big brother, more like being an uncle, you know? Older and wiser through 'ard-won experience, you know?"

Richards did a fairly good imitation of the Cockney pickpocket in that little speech. Garrison was a little surprised, hadn't really thought the starchy major had it in him. Perhaps the association with the O'Donnell sisters really was having an impact.

"And how did his little stint with the team translate into the guys getting out of that death trap?" Garrison asked. 

No, no matter what, he wouldn't, COULDN'T, resent Parker Andrews, not if he was responsible for giving Garrison the opportunity of keeping his men safe, bringing them home again. {"Bringing Goniff home safe again."}

"Young Andrews got back from his little jaunt, promptly told his father about his adventure - not just the mission, but the men and how they'd treated him, taught him, had taken such care of him, and his father was impressed, made a few judicious inquiries. Well, no one was talking much, not about an active mission, but HE'S one you don't say 'no' to, not when he comes asking. I'm not sure who finally came up with the details, certainly not those two in the hallway. It would appear he was NOT favorably impressed with what he heard about that latest mission, the underlying part of it anyway, and pulled some quiet strings, enough I got into the mix. Fortunately, I know the resistance leader in that area quite well, was able to give him a heads up as to the possible situation, what my preferences would be.

"Once they're back, I have the feeling there might be a few other strings pulled, perhaps not such quiet ones, involving Major Rudman and Colonel Truman and one or two others. His father has quite a way of letting you know you've crossed him, I've heard. Has both a bark AND a bite."

"Actually, I had thought to pull a few strings of my own, perhaps in addition to Lars, with some mutual friends, though it turned out not to be necessary. Frankly, I'm surprised they weren't involved earlier, but they were all out and about on other business, scattered hither and yon. None were too pleased to hear about Major Rudman's assignment and Colonel Truman's plans when they DID get the word, I promise you that. 

"In fact, their description of what should befall Major Rudman and Colonel Truman was almost as incomprehensible as that little bit that Goniff put forth regarding young Andrews. Almost. Celtic instead of Cockney, of course, but still, I understood enough, actually, that I would have preferred it to be a little MORE incomprehensible. There was some mention of mushrooms, if I heard that part correctly, but perhaps I didn't; it hardly seems likely. Whatever, they really are NOT overly-civilized, you know?"

Garrison gave the first smile he'd allowed himself since he'd gotten back. Admittedly it wasn't a very NICE smile, but Richards could accept that, certainly took no offence, found it most understandable, in fact.

"No, they aren't. Oddly enough, I'm finding that I'm not nearly as civilized as I once thought, either, Major," he said, taking a long considering look back in the direction of Rudman and Truman's offices.

Richards nodded understandingly, but cautioned, with a concerned look - "Subtlety, Lieutenant. Or perhaps I mean 'discretion'. Or, at least, a warning to please not get caught or allow yourself to be identified, whatever is going through your mind. As of now, you are in the right of things. I'd like to keep that a defensible position, if you don't mind."

Somehow, that very slight, enigmatic smile from Garrison failed to give Richards as much reassurance as he would have liked. It reminded him far too much of certain redhaired females of his acquaintance. 

Still, he did understand. He would have been hard-pressed to maintain a cool-calm-and-collected demeanor, himself, under the circumstances. Well, he doubted Garrison would do anything foolish. Of course, the alleys, even around HQ, were rather risky. It would hardly be surprising if Rudman, at least, ran afoul of some passing footpad. Happened all too often, actually.


	8. "I Have The Feeling I'm Being Set Up"

"Parker Andrews? So, tell me about him?" Garrison asked, somewhat hesitantly, flexing his right hand carefully, trying not to wince as the bruises and abrasions made themselves felt. He took a cautious sip from his glass, favoring that split lip he'd gotten in some undisclosed manner, glad Meghada had thought to restock with the good stuff before she'd headed out for parts unknown. 

It was the first opportunity they'd had for any private time, but now, the walls of the Cottage secure around them, he could ask what had been on his mind ever since that conversation with Kevin Richards. 

Well, he'd asked, and heard, a hell of a lot up in the Common Room at the Mansion, but this wasn't a conversation for there, not with others around. 

Now, he didn't know if he really wanted to know, or at least, whether he was ready for the answers, not really, but still, yes, he had to know. 

(Just replaying that convoluted sentence in his mind made Garrison want to groan with frustration.)

Goniff poured himself another drink, wiggled to get more comfortable in the big easy chair, easily a chair and a half in width. {"Bless 'Gaida for wanting stuff that feels right and comfy over w'at looks fancy or dainty! You could sleep in these, if need be, or maybe do even more. There's room enough, to be sure! We've proved that, more than once, 'er and me."}, and he smiled at that thought, all the possibilities.

He brought his mind back to what Garrison had asked. Just how to answer that, since it wasn't so easy a thing. You almost had to have been there to understand.

Young Parker Andrews - none of them on the team had a younger brother, and just how the young wet-behind-the-ears officer had come to fill that spot so quickly none of them could have said. Still, he had, and now Goniff struggled with how to explain it to Craig, who hadn't been there to see, to know, to understand.

"Parker's a right nice young bloke, Craig. Reminds me of you in some ways. 'Andsome boy, gold blond 'air like yours, blue eyes stead of green, though, not near as sparkly as yours are. Still, like you, 'e's smart as a whip. Thing is, though 'e's smart in a w'ole bunch of ways, 'e don't 'ave near enough street smarts to get through without taking some 'eavy bruising along the way. Course, likely 'e'll get over that with some years and some experience. We just kinda eased 'im along in that direction a bit faster than might 'ave 'appened otherwise; gave 'im some ways to 'andle things better."

"Reminded you of me, you say. How much did he remind you of me?" and even Garrison realized just how that sounded, the undercurrent of perhaps resentment, perhaps jealousy in his voice, especially as he zeroed in on the part of that explanation that mattered most to him, at least right now, ignoring the rest. 

He flushed at how much he was probably revealing, but forced himself to look at Goniff, let his pickpocket see what lay beneath that question, holding his breath for the answer.

Goniff looked at him, blue eyes widening at what he was seeing in Garrison's face, and laughed, his eyes now full of gratified amusement. 

Somehow, he hadn't been expecting that, especially since while the boy had sparked the obvious superficial comparison, had engaged his protective instincts, there had certainly been nothing else involved. 

For one thing, Parker was just that, hardly more than a boy, and Goniff's words to Richards had been quite truthful - a certain big-brotherliness, maybe an avuncular concern, had been there, but certainly nothing more. Nothing like what he felt for Craig.

Still, he would've had to have been more than human for that spark of jealousy coming from Garrison not to have pleased him; he'd felt that on more than one occasion himself, after all. Though, remembering all that, he wasn't about to let it stand, the uncertainty, the worry. No, he knew far too well how much that could hurt. He hastened to offer reassurances.

"Not near THAT much, I can tell you that, nor in that sort of way! For one thing, - well, that don't matter, that one thing or any of the others I could list out. Thing is, 'e AIN'T you, Craig. That's all that matters. There's no one else that's you, not even close. Can't rightly imagine there ever could be."

And if Garrison felt a little in common with Kevin Richards, that only-half-comprehending, still, that was enough, along with the look of total sincere clarity in Goniff's hazy blue eyes conveying perhaps what those words didn't quite.

And then, after taking a deep breath that let the last threads of worry fade away, it was with total honesty he told Goniff, "I'd like to meet him sometime. It sounds like I would like him."

Goniff was more than enthusiastic about that possibility.

"No two ways about it! You'd get along like a 'ouse afire, you would! Lots you could teach 'im too. If you're maybe not intending to stay in that uniform after the war, it'd be nice knowing there's someone with your skills ready to take over, eh?"

Garrison's voice dropped, getting slightly husky.

"Goniff - alright, I'll meet him, I'll teach him what I can. But for tonight? Just shut up about Parker Andrews, okay?"

So, that was a little unfair, considering how he'd brought up the subject in the first place, but still he felt the need for discussing that particular subject was over for the night. 

Goniff chuckled, setting his glass at the far side of the table closest to him, and stretched luxuriously, settling a little farther to one side of that big chair. 

"Well, if that's w'at you want, Craig. Now, w'at should we talk about instead? Maybe w'at 'Ruddy Rudman' looks like tonight? Should I take it 'e 'as more than a split lip and a sore 'and?"

Garrison tried his best to look innocent, but frankly, didn't do a very good job of it, if he was to judge by that knowing smirk and low chuckle coming from his pickpocket.

"No, I don't think we need to discuss Major Rudman either, not right now anyway." 

"Maybe you want to 'ear more about my daring and 'eroic dive off that roof, or maybe my cunning impersonation of a corpse?" Goniff offered eagerly, clearly intending to show Garrison how that wide-eyed 'innocent', not to mention 'hopeful' look SHOULD be done. Garrison had to agree, Goniff did have it down pat.

"Goniff, just stop talking," he said, getting up and crossing over to look down into what was now a knowing smirk. 

{"I have the feeling I'm being set up."}. 

This time, though, that shiver up and down his spine was a far nicer one than he'd gotten from the meeting with Major Pine. 

"Well, if you say so. But I 'AVE to say I was absolutely amazing, but then I usually am, you know. Why, I could tell you stories . . ." Now those blue eyes were actually twinkling at him, seeming to dare Garrison to come join him in that big chair, maybe try to MAKE him stop talking. 

Garrison considered the situation. {"It'd be a little crowded, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Huh. A dare, is it?"}. 

Since telling Goniff to stop talking hadn't worked, Garrison decided to take him up on that unspoken dare and try other means. 

Actually, that worked quite well, for both of them. They didn't start conversing again, at least, using actual words, til the next morning. That was time enough, it would seem, and besides, sometimes you didn't need words to communicate just fine.


End file.
